


gone

by badava



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Kind of angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 15:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badava/pseuds/badava
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz sighs. “You know I would do it any time, but…” He hesitates, as if he’s afraid to say what he’s about to say, thinking that it’s not a very good idea. “It’s been… It’s been four years, man.” He laughs nervously. “We all miss her, but…” He shakes his head. “You have to keep going, you know?”<br/>William wants to scream. Wants to yell, “But I loved her! I loved her and she just went and died and left us here, left me here!” He wants to pound his fists, maybe feel a little less pain than he feels constantly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	gone

For a few years, they were happy.

She worked in her swiftly growing company, him in his. They would compete against one another for sponsors, agreements, contracts, and then go home, kiss, and have dinner together. They would visit family, spend time with friends, watch television, play board games.

A little (three and a half years) down the road, he proposes, and she, of course, says yes. They get married within eight months—later than her mother would have liked, _but at least he’s wealthy!_ They have a daughter not long after, with dark hair and blue eyes that remind him of his sister.

They continue with their joyful, successful lives, spoiling their daughter, working. They end up having another child, a son, this time, seven years after their first.

For two years after that, life is good.

She’s gone before they even realize she was sick.

“Cancer,” The doctor tells him. Gigi, Fitz, and Brandon are in the car with the children, now two and nine, both too young to really understand the situation. “Brain tumor, didn’t even realize it was there until… Well…” He trails off, nodding like “ _you know”._

 _Until she was gone._ William finishes for the doctor in his head bitterly.

He watches a week later as the best casket money could buy, containing her body, is lowered into the ground. Their son tugs on his itchy suit with his chubby hands as he sits in William’s arms, confused. _Mommy?_  He said more than once. Their daughter clings to his leg, crying.

Most days afterward, he throws himself into his work and his family. Driving his daughter to ballet, taking his son to daycare. Going to meetings, answering conference calls, making dinner. Anything he can possibly do to distract himself from the empty side of their— _his—_ bed.

But there is one day, every year. The same date of her death, in late June. On these days, he can’t bring himself to do much but sit in bed.

Although this has been happening every year since, his son, six, at this time, still does not understand. He knows she is gone; he knows daddy is sad; but he doesn’t know _why._

“Why are you sad, daddy?” He asks. His daughter, now at the tender age of thirteen, understands, and will curl up in bed beside him until Fitz and Brandon come by and picks them up for a day at the zoo or the aquarium or the amusement park, depending on the weather.

After his children are gone, all alone, William will lie in bed, sleeping or staring at the grey-blue walls ( _She chose the color when they first moved there. Said it made her feel cozy)._ “The View” or “Good Morning America” or some other network television show will drone on the background, and he will stay there.

This year, he finally gets up to meet his children as the doorbell rings late in the evening, signifying that Fitz is here to drop them off. His son zooms past him, a hat made to resemble a fish on his head as he makes elephant noises, his daughter staring down at her phone, texting someone. He catches a glimpse of the message as she passes by. _…couldn’t hang out, tradition…_ He sends them off to shower and then faces Fitz.

“Thank you.” He nods, clearing his throat. His whole body is tired and stiff. “For, um, taking them.”

Fitz sighs. “You know I would do it any time, but…” He hesitates, as if he’s afraid to say what he’s about to say, thinking that it’s not a very good idea. “It’s been… It’s been four years, man.” He laughs nervously. “We all miss her, but…” He shakes his head. “You have to keep going, you know?”

William wants to scream. Wants to yell, “ _But I loved her! I loved her and she just went and died and left us here, left_ me _here!”_ He wants to pound his fists, maybe feel a little less pain than he feels constantly.

But the one thing he wants to do most is something he hasn’t done in years, refused to do, wouldn’t let himself do.

He wanted to cry.

Instead, he feels his chin tuck in ( _She would tease him for that. “Look at you, you lobster.” She would laugh, and then kiss him)._ Fitz apologizes, asks if he’s alright, if he needs anything else. With a shake of his head and a clear of his throat, William dismisses him. His friend looks at him with one last sad look, frowns, and leaves.

Once he makes sure his children are clean and in their bedrooms, he snakes under his bed sheets, clutching his wedding band as if it was his only connection to his happiness, to his life.

And maybe it is.

As he’s lying there, he feels tears burn in his eyes for not the first time, but he lets them fall, something he can’t remember doing for years.

Eventually, after god knows how long, he falls asleep with tears stained on his cheeks and a circled imprint on his palm.


End file.
